We had a book club session which I will be blogging about soon, and I found myself wondering what book had made such a supreme impression. There have been many, many books. I’m a fickle reader- I flit from book to book, linger on some pages, and then rush to another tome or even screen. I had resolved to read every book that came my way, but I take my time with them, and though the falling into love with books is routine, few embed themselves in memory.
Now I take books seriously- review books, complete reading books, write books.
But what piece of writing has stayed with me?
It had to be a poem.The Waste Land by T.S.Eliot was a poem that I loved for reasons far from the poem. It had to do with the teacher who read it to us and turned it into some kind of anthem in our minds. Always, always April is the cruelest month, even though it is the time of our own harvest festival. Always there is hope, even when there isn’t.
So I read a bit of the poem- and it was as though my professor was reading it to us again in that faraway classroom that I wish I could go back to. That could be why the poem moved me, because it had moved someone else as well, in a place that still existed on the map but was now completely inaccessible and severed by time.
Have you found yourself rereading something- a poem, a book, and realizing why that piece of work meant what it did? Sometimes it could be a revelation.
© neelthemuse, 2015
Check out my book Unsettled @ Amazon